


like a thief in the night

by valiantlybold



Series: wolf in lark's clothing [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottoming from the Top, Butt Plugs, Cars, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Fights, M/M, Mob Boss Jaskier, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Theft, car thief lambert, kept boy lambert, vesemir isnt lamberts dad but hes totally lamberts Dad, yennefer is there but doesnt get named yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantlybold/pseuds/valiantlybold
Summary: Lambert steals the wrong car.Or depending on how you look at it, he steals the right car.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: wolf in lark's clothing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640455
Comments: 16
Kudos: 486





	like a thief in the night

**Author's Note:**

> Not really clarified in the fic but lambert isnt a werewolf yet and he doesnt know they, or any other critters like that, exist yet either

Lambert knows he’s done for as soon as he sees it. As soon as he lays his eyes on it, he knows he’d do anything to get behind the wheel of that beauty.

It’s nothing special; a black towncar, like a million others, but this one just look _so damn good._ It’s polished to shine, the tires are barely worn, not a speck on dirt on it, and as he glances inside, he sees the interior is almost in mint condition.

This thing must have rolled off the lot no more than a week or two ago.

Fuck, it must have cost at least a good seventy grand. Oh, shit, what brand was it? _Fuck,_ that means it had to be eighty, at the least. Lambert’s going to have wet dreams about this car for _weeks._

He pulls out his phone and opens his Bluetooth spoof program.

His phone connects to the car’s built in Bluetooth, and through that, he disables the alarm. After a few moments of searching and cycling, his phone finds the frequency the car’s key-fob is attuned to and turns his phone into a key.

One tap, the doors unlock.

Another tap, the engine starts.

Gotta love technology.

Lambert gets in behind the wheel and takes off.

He needs to take this baby for a spin around the city before he brings it to the shop.

*

Lambert is confused when he gets to the shop, because his boss is waiting for him outside the ports. It’s weird, because by now it’s almost eleven at night and Vesemir is a crotchety old man who leaves at six and goes to bed at eight, like all crotchety old men. Seeing him at the shop so late is… _weird._

Lambert throws the car in park and cuts the engine. Vesemir has crossed the grounds to meet him by the time Lambert’s gotten out of the car.

Instead of a greeting, Lambert get a _hefty_ wallop across the back of the head.

 _“Ow!”_ Lambert all but shouts. _“What’s that for, ya old fuck?!”_

Vesemir points back at the shop. “Do you know who owns this place?” he bites. “Who employs both _you_ and _me?”_

“Uh,” Lambert hums, rubbing at the back of his head to settle the ache. “Some prick called _Dandilion,_ or somethin’?”

Then Vesemir points to the towncar Lambert brought in. “And do you know who owns that car?”

_Oh._

Lambert can see where this is going.

Yeah, he messed up, didn’t he?

Ah, fuck…

“Exactly,” Vesemir says, clearly reading the realization on Lambert’s face. “Now I’ve talked to his people and Dandilion is open to letting this whole thing slide, sweep it right under the rug, water under the bridge, _if_ you bring him his _fucking_ car right this minute and _beg_ for mercy. _Got it?”_

Lambert swallows. He nods jerkily. “Okay. Okay, got it.”

Vesemir gives him very specific directions; when Lambert asks exactly what kind of place he’s going to, he gets another wallop on the head and is told not to ask stupid questions, just do what he’s told.

Lambert gets back in the car and tries to control his breathing as he drives.

Following Vesemir’s directions, Lambert leaves the city.

He doesn’t know much about this _Dandilion_ character but he knows the guy runs the whole city’s dark underbelly (and then some). And Lambert has also heard that Dandilion isn’t known for his abundance of patience. Lambert very honestly fears he is going to get killed, the deeper he goes into the countryside.

 _Fuck,_ is he really going to get killed over this? He just stole a fucking car, right? _That’s literally his job!_ His job is to steal cars and bring them back to the shop to get butchered for parts! How the hell was Lambert supposed to know who owns this specific fucking car?! There’s literally a thousand black towncars all over the city! He just happened to run across the wrong one! Honest mistake!

He reaches a large mansion, and now he knows he’s fucked, because that is _totally_ the kind of place a mob boss would live and why would said mob boss invite a sucker like _Lambert_ to his home if he wasn’t in _big_ trouble?

Nondescript men in nondescript suits point him into the garage, where he parks the car. Another nondescript man there leads him from the garage into the mansion.

Lambert has never seen a place this fancy before. Even if he steals cars until the day he dies, he’ll probably never afford even just _a quarter_ of what this place must have cost.

He is shown upstairs and through a door.

On the other side, is a home theater.

The room in completely dark, a projector showing a movie on the far wall. Rows of comfortable-looking chairs move down from the small platform the door opens onto. All the seats are empty, save for one.

Before he can ask his guide what he is supposed to do, the door has closed on him.

Lambert swallows tightly.

He shuffles down the stairs along the wall to the bottom row, where the silhouette of a man occupies a seat. He approaches cautiously. The big screen casts a pale light over the man.

He looks young, younger than Lambert himself. He’s dressed comfortably in sweats and a t-shirt, and has a big bowl of popcorn in his lap and a drink in his hand. He watches the screen with big eyes.

“E-Excuse-”

_“Sh!”_

The man doesn’t even look away from the screen when he shushes him.

Lambert clears his throat again.

Okay. So, what now?

This guy, who may or may not be Dandilion, obviously isn’t going to talk to him until the movie is over.

Lambert sits down, one empty seat to separate him from the other man.

The man moves the popcorn bowl and sets it on the empty seat, quietly offering Lambert a taste.

Afraid to offend, Lambert takes a small handful and eats them slowly.

They’re too salty and too buttery, but he is _not_ about to complain.

The movie goes on for another fifteen minutes. The whole time, Lambert sits stock still and stares at the screen, not really comprehending any of what is happening before him.

His mind and his heart both race.

All he can think about it what kind of punishment he’s in for.

Is he going to work off some kind of debt? Will Dandilion just beat him a little and call it a day? _Will he kill Lambert?_

Fuck.

Lambert feels like he’s about to throw up.

The credits start to roll.

The other man lets out a sigh. He stands up, stretching his arms out over his head, working out the stiffness from sitting still for so long.

The projector shuts off and the screen falls dark. A soft yellow light fills the theater as the lamps mounted along the walls slowly dim on.

“Lambert Shaw,” the man says.

Lambert stands up. He is some inches taller than the other man.

“I’m Dandilion. You’re the one who stole my car.”

Again, Lambert swallows, and hopes his heart moves from his throat back to it’s proper place in his chest.

“Follow me,” Dandilion says, smirking.

Dandilion starts walking.

Lambert scrambles after him.

They quickly leave the theater room. Lambert stays close behind Dandilion as they move around the upper floor.

His stomach knots up when he is shown into a bedroom.

_Oh, God, what’s Dandilion going to make him do?_

“Wait here.”

Lambert nods, as Dandilion throws open the double doors that lead to a walk-in closet then disappears inside.

He tries to get ready for it, for whatever is going to happen, for whatever is going to have to do. He’ll do anything, as long it means he gets to stay alive. If he just gets to live, he’ll do anything.

But Dandilion subverts Lambert’s expectations raptly, though. He soon leaves the closet again, now dressed in an awfully garish lime green suits, hands covered in glittery rings and bracelets.

“Come along, now!” he says and Lambert has no idea what to do other than follow.

With swift steps they move back through the house until they reach a hallway which Lambert recognizes as the one leading to the garage. There, they stop and meet with another nondescript man. The man offers several things to Lambert.

A ring of keys, a phone, and a small address book.

“What do I do with these?” he asks Dandilion, confused.

Dandilion smiles in the same way the sun shines; bright and blinding.

“Well, since my driver was incompetent enough to let my car get stolen, he is no longer my driver,” he says plainly. “And since you were competent enough to be the one who stole said car, you will be my _new_ driver.”

Um.

 _Beats dying,_ Lambert figures.

He slips the phone in his pocket and keeps the address book at the ready.

“Where do you wanna go, boss?”

At that, Dandilion’s smile settles into a pleased smirk.

_“Good boy.”_

Lambert swallows.

Something squirms in his gut.

They head into the garage.

“We’re going to Warehouse 21,” Dandilion tells him as they walk.

Lambert flips through the address book and memorizes the address to Warehouse 21. Good, yes, he knows that area, he knows how to get there.

He clicks the key fob on the ring. The car he stole beeps and it’s lights blink as it unlocks. He jogs ahead of Dandilion; he grabs the backseat passenger door and opens it for the man.

Dandilion still smirks. _“Very_ good boy.”

Lambert swallows again, and again, something _squirms_ in his gut.

_Goddamn…_

Lambert pulls back out of the garage and hits the road back into the city.

He glances in the rear-view mirror now and then.

Dandilion looks completely unbothered by this whole situation. He simply gets himself comfortable in the backseat and fiddles with his phone.

Soon enough, he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello, darling! I know, I know, but I’m on my way now.”

Lambert’s heart races when he glances in the rear-view mirror and finds Dandilion staring right back at him.

“There was some trouble with my car.”

Lambert almost chokes on his tongue.

“You know how it is. Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

He talks some more, but the call ends shortly. Dandilion settles back in with whatever game he’s playing on his phone.

The drive is quiet.

The silence gets on Lambert’s nerves. He wants to say something, break the tension, but he has no clue how Dandilion might react. He might get pissed. He might decide Lambert’s more trouble than he’s worth, and kill him off.

So he bites his tongue and says nothing.

Warehouse 21 lies along the waterfront, a tiny brick building nestled in between _actual_ warehouses. It’s a small, dingy dive bar, with a flickering neon sign above the door, a _21_ glowing bright yellow.

Dandilion points Lambert to the row of cars parked along the side of one of the warehouses, and directs him to the spot left open closest to the bar’s entrance. Lambert assumes people leave the spot open for Dandilion, and they know better than to get in his way. Lambert parks the car. He jumps out of his seat then runs around and opens the door for his boss.

The man hums and smirks as he climbs out of the car.

“Thank you very much, Lambert,” he says, pleased as punch.

Lambert follows a few steps behind him, a silent shadow, as he was not told to wait by the car. Dandilion says nothing of it so Lambert assumes he’s doing alright.

There’s a line of people waiting at the door; more people than Lambert thought would be interested in a dive bar on the waterfront.

Dandilion passes them by.

The bouncer guarding the door says nothing; he only steps aside and holds the door for Dandilion.

When Lambert tries to follow, the bouncer stops him, a meaty hand catching him by the leather of his jacket.

“Come off it, Letho,” Dandilion purrs, sidling up to the bouncer, hanging off his shoulder. “He’s with me.”

Letho grunts. For a moment, Lambert thinks he’s about to get his teeth kicked in.

Then Letho grunts again and lets him go.

“Got my eye on you,” he says, though, Lambert is finally allowed to pass.

Dandilion lays a kiss on Letho’s cheek and laughs, then continues inside.

Lambert follows. That seems to be most of his job; following Dandilion around like piece of gum stuck to the underside of his shoe.

But again: _beats dying._

The bar is _packed._

Lambert almost loses Dandilion in the pushing throng of people. The almost _shining_ lime green suit makes him stand out, though, and makes him harder to lose track of. Soon, they come out of the crowd to a wide space left open. It’s almost as though an invisible line has been drawn on the floor, and the people _know_ to not step over it.

Dandilion pays it no mind. He walks across the open space without a care in the world, to the far wall. There, two luxurious armchairs have been placed, backs to the wall to face out to the open space. One of the chairs is occupied by one of the most beautiful women Lambert has ever laid eyes on. She’s all pale skin and night-black hair and violet eyes, and she smiles when Dandilion approaches, and she stands up and they hug like old friends.

“You’re just in time, darling,” she says as they part. “The show is just about to start.”

“I know, I know! Like I said, there was some trouble with the car,” Dandilion reminds her as they both sit down.

Lambert moves to stand at Dandilion’s side.

A waitress hurries over. On the small table that separates Dandilion and the woman, the waitress quickly places two glasses, which she then fills with red wine. When she leaves, she does it like she’s running for her life.

Dandilion and the woman chat and drink their wine.

Lambert stands quiet.

In a minute, two men step out of the crowd. The crowd cheers for them as they remove their jackets and shirts, empty their pockets, divest themselves of rings and jewellery. Lambert watches money change hands in the crowd.

What’s happening?

A bell rings, and the men jump each other.

They beat each other savagely as the crowd roars for them.

Dandilion cheers, clapping his hands and hollering, and the woman does the same.

It’s…a gladiator match, basically. A fight club.

Lambert tears his eyes away. He looks beyond the fight. He has no interest in watching people beat each other half to death.

The fight ends, and another starts. Then another, and then another.

Dandilion and his companion drink wine and laugh and talk, and cheer for the fights, and they pass money back and forth too, betting on each new match.

The crowd never simmers down. They stay just as riled up for each and every fight, their enthusiasm and thirst for blood never wavering.

Lambert can see why gladiator fights were so popular back in the day.

At around three am, things change.

The tittering around Dandilion and the woman silences; instead, they lean in close to each other and _whisper_.

Then they go quiet, and they both look up at Lambert.

The woman whispers something more to Dandilion, which makes the man grin.

“Lambert?” Dandilion says.

“Yeah…?”

“Will you fight for me?”

Lambert’s eyes go wide. “Wh-What?”

“Will you fight for me?” Dandilion repeats plainly. “Will you win for me?”

Lambert hardly knows what to say.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Dandilion assures. “I’m not going to force you to fight if you don’t want to. But I really would _love_ watching you fight.”

Lambert stares at him. There’s a ring of sincerity to his voice. Lambert does believe that Dandilion won’t force him to fight if Lambert doesn’t want to. But at the same time, he also believes that Dandilion really would _love_ watching him fight.

The squirming feeling is back in his gut when he looks at Dandilion.

He doesn’t want to admit it but being called a good boy was…nice. He’s a grown fucking man and it _shouldn’t_ be nice, but it is, because _Dandilion gives enough of a shit to tell him he did a good job and it’s been_ years _since_ anyone _gave a shit about him._

And that’s when Lambert realizes that _holy shit,_ he wants to be called a good boy again and he wants Dandilion to call him a good boy, and he knows they just met but Dandilion is-

He is _a lot._

Lambert takes off his jacket. Dandilion lights up and the woman grins. Lambert rests his jacket over the arm of Dandilion’s chair then removes his shirt and empties his pockets.

“I’m betting on you, love,” Dandilion tells him when he takes Lambert’s things.

Lambert isn’t going to lose.

He doesn’t like fighting, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t _good_ at it. Hell, growing up in the foster system, he’d be dead if he couldn’t put up a good fight.

He walks into the ring, joining the victor from the last match.

They shake hands; no hard feelings, it’s nothing personal, it’s more or less just a game.

The bell rings.

*

Lambert hisses as he holds a pint glass full of ice against his left eye.

Dandilion is talking to the woman and a man Lambert hasn’t seen before. Money changes hands. They shake hands. Dandilion and the woman kiss each other’s cheek and say goodbye.

Lambert looks away when Dandilion swaggers over to him by the bar.

A stack of bills, tied together by a rubber band, is placed in front of him. What the fuck? This has got to be _at least_ ten grand!

“Congratulations on the win,” Dandilion tells him.

“What?”

The man shrugs. “I bet on you, I told you. Think you’re good to take me home? If you got your head rattled, you shouldn’t drive. I’ll take you home if you want.”

Lambert shakes his head. “No. No, I’m… I’m okay. Just- Just gimme a minute.”

Dandilion hums. He waves down the bartender and gets himself another glass of wine, and some water for Lambert.

They sit for another half-hour. Lambert sips his water slowly. Dandilion drinks his wine. He talks. He talk about anything and everything, and Lambert listens. He seems like a very talkative person.

When he feels ready, Lambert informs Dandilion and they set out.

Dandilion calls him a good boy when he opens the car door for him, and the squirming is back stronger than ever.

The boss doesn’t talk in the same way while they drive home. He seems more focused on his phone for a little while, then he simply watches the city pass by his window.

Lambert doesn’t mind the talking, but he doesn’t mind the quiet either.

“You looked good in the fight,” Dandilion says then, as they leave the bounds of the city.

“Thank you,” Lambert says lowly.

He doesn’t know what else to say. What else is he supposed to say to that?

“When we get home, will you fuck me?”

Lambert almost chokes on his tongue.

_“Excuse me?”_

He’s more taken off guard than upset, really.

Dandilion chuckles. “Won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to,” he says. “If it’s not your preference, then it’s not your preference and that’s that. And if you simply don’t want to, then you don’t want to and that’s that. But if you’d like to, I’d love it if you fucked me.”

The driver stares at the road.

Adrenaline is still pumping through his body. It’s been years since he got in a fight last. He isn’t used to the rush of adrenaline that comes with it. He was used to it once, but not anymore. If he doesn’t hold on tight to the steering wheel, his hands are still shaking. None of his scrapes and bruises hurt yet. He knows they’ll hurt like hell soon enough, but with the adrenaline still flooding him, he can’t feel the pain yet.

And he was a good boy. He won the fight. He won the bet for Dandilion, and Dandilion told him he did good.

“Okay. I’ll fuck you.”

Dandilion hums.

He leans forward, hanging off the front seats, looking closely at Lambert.

“Are you sure you want to?”

“What?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you, because that is the last thing I ever want to do. I am a bastard, I know that, but I’d never _force_ anyone into my bed.”

“I want to. I want it. I do.”

Dandilion hums again. “Then I want you to know that during the act, you are always free to withdraw your consent and I will respect it fully.”

Lambert clears his throat. “Thanks.”

“Great!”

And with that, Dandilion sits back again.

“You know, I’ve always been _incredibly_ attracted to strong men,” he continues. “And _hoo, boy,_ watching strong men _fight?_ That’s a wet dream for me. And you? You’re a walking wet dream all on your own.”

Lambert presses harder on the gas.

“Big and strong and handsome, _and_ a good boy.”

Lambert presses even harder on the gas.

“And now you’re _my_ good boy, and trust me, I’ll take _such_ good care of you. I always take care of my toys and my pets, and I suppose you’re a bit of both.”

Lambert swallows.

_Fuck._

He inhales a sharp breath when he feels hands reach from behind him and grip his shoulders. Dandilion massages his shoulders, leaning in close to speak softly in Lambert’s ear.

“I’ll lay you out on my bed, and take care of you, love. I’ll suck your fucking soul out through your cock, then ride you out of your mind. How’s that sound, darling?”

“Good,” Lambert bites, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “So good.”

Dandilion chuckles. He leans in even closer, sucking Lambert’s earlobe into his mouth, a soft moan leaving him.

 _“Fuck,_ I’m so hard for you,” he pants when he lets it go. “Can’t wait to get home so I can feel you in me.”

Lambert has long since raced past the speed-limit and he couldn’t care less.

They get back to the mansion in record time.

Lambert opens the door for Dandilion, and the man all but throws himself at the driver. His hands cling to Lambert’s leather jacket, lips crashing together.

He tastes like wine and money and blood, but that last one might just be Lambert’s split lip.

They stumble out of the garage together. Where the house was filled with suit-clad men before, it now stands empty.

Dandilion has him against the wall almost as soon as they’re through the door. His mouth sucks marks on Lambert’s neck, hands straying all over. All Lambert can do is cling to Dandilion’s perfect ass and enjoy the ride. Soon enough, he can’t even do that, because Dandilion is falling on his knees and he tears at Lambert’s belt. With some help, they get his belt and jeans undone, and then that sweet little mouth is wrapped around his cock and fuck, Dandilion really might suck his soul out because damn, he’s good at that.

He takes Lambert into his throat like it’s nothing and moans around him, eyes rolling back in his head like he can’t get enough of it. Lambert find himself grounded when his fingers get lost in Dandilion’s soft hair. Fuck, pleasure fizzles in his gut, mixing amazingly with adrenaline, getting him to a whole new level of _high._

_“Daddy!”_

It slips out of Lambert without his permission and _shame_ instantly blooms in his gut.

Dandilion pulls off of him, gasping for breath.

“Daddy’s good boy,” he says, panting. “You wanna be Daddy’s boy? I can be your Daddy, if you let me, love. Will you let me be your Daddy?”

Lambert pants too, caught between shame and pleasure; Dandilion must be too good to be true, he cares and he calls Lambert a good boy and he isn’t disgusted with Lambert. He nods jerkily, which makes Dandilion smile, and he presses a kiss to the base of Lambert’s cock.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go, sweet thing, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Lambert’s head is spinning and he laughs like a loon; Dandilion takes him by the hand and pulls him along.

They race through the house, up the stairs, down the hallways, into the bedroom, and on the way, they divest themselves of their clothes, leaving a trail behind them as they go.

They fall into bed.

They’re kissing like they’ve been doing it for years. Dandilion always looks thin and lanky, but even more so, when he lays under Lambert’s broad shoulders and meaty limbs. Still, it doesn’t seem to take him any effort to flip them over, to put Lambert on his back and sit on top of him.

He stands up on his knees and reaches behind himself. His eyes close and he bites his lip, a moan leaving him. His hand returns into sight with a _plug._ Did he- How long- When- _What?_

Dandilion grins and shrugs. “If you didn’t want to, I’d find someone else. What d’you think I was doing while I was waiting around for you to bring my car back?”

Fuck, that’s hot.

Lambert half-sits, plastering his mouth to Dandilion’s body, not bothered by his fuzzy chest while lapping at his nipples. Dandilion giggles. He reaches over to the nightstand, Lambert leaning with him, and sets the plug down there. He fumbles and finds a bottle of lube. Lambert offers his hand out, and hums on Dandilion’s perked nipple as he feels the lube be poured into his palm.

He rubs the slick perfunctory over his cock then finds Dandilion’s lovely ass again, wet fingers pressing into him. Dandilion moans like a song. God, he feels good inside; soft and silky, perfectly hot and wet, and _Lambert can’t fucking wait._

“Go on,” Dandilion urges, clawing at Lambert’s shoulder, tugging at his short hair. “Come on, darling, let me ride this pretty cock, let me take care of my good boy.”

Lambert can’t help the groan that leaves him.

Dandilion hums. “You like that, honey? You like being my good boy?”

 _“Mm-hm,”_ Lambert grunts.

He withdraws his fingers, mouth moving to Dandilion’s slender throat to suck a perfect mark onto him, and guides his cock.

They moan together as Dandilion sinks onto him.

“Lay back, darling, you were such a _big, strong, handsome boy_ for me all night,” Dandilion keeps talking. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

Lambert lets himself lay back, hands grabbing after Dandilion’s sweet body, his skin like silk under his touch.

Dandilion rocks onto him, taking him deeper, and Lambert’s going to lose his mind. He’s perfect and sweet and soft around Lambert’s cock, he takes it so well.

“That’s Daddy’s boy, that’s Daddy’s pretty boy, my good little boy.”

He leans on Lambert’s chest, working his body against the man, fucking himself on him.

 _“I-I-I can’t-_ Daddy, I can’t,” he pleads. “’M gonna-”

Dandilion’s body flutters so perfectly around him, clutching him like a vice. He all but squeezes it out of Lambert by force. He can’t hold it back even if he wanted to.

“That’s my boy, cum for Daddy, it’s alright,” Dandilion assures him gently. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hold it back, it’s alright.”

He clings to Dandilion; his fingers sink into soft skin, surely leaving bruises behind, as the sizzling adrenaline pushes the budding pleasure to bloom. He tries haplessly to move with Dandilion, to give in return for what he's getting, to give thanks for all of this.

Lightbulbs pop behind his eyes, he pulls Dandilion to him, and he moans into this early morning as he cums, and while he does, Dandilion keeps whispering to him, keeps talking to him.

“That’s my good boy, that’s a lovely boy, did so well for Daddy all night…”

*

It’s six am.

The sun is rising outside the windows.

They're laying in bed still.

Lambert can’t say how many times he’s cum now, how many times Dandilion has practically wrung it out of him.

There are small spots of blood on the sheets from where Lambert's split lip opened again, or the cut on his cheek broken open, but it doesn't matter.

“I think I’d like to keep you.”

Lambert opens his eyes. He was almost dozing off there for a moment.

“Would it be alright if I kept you?” asks Dandilion, his eyes soft, his lips stained red with blood from Lambert’s lip.

“Kept me how?” he mumbles, tired.

“Just like this. Work for me. Talk to me. Listen to me. Fuck me, when you feel like it. Just...keep you.”

It doesn’t sound so bad.

Lambert went into this night thinking he was going to get killed; instead, he found something he can’t quite describe, nor does he care to explain it to anyone. He just knows that this something is a very good something, a something he would be a fool to discard.

“Only if I get to keep you too.”

Dandilion laughs like a song again. Lambert wants to put that song on repeat and never let it stop.

“Sounds like a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> dont worry, theres gonna be one for eskel too 😉


End file.
